First Lady of Cool
by NomDuClavier
Summary: A True Story of Legendary Awesomeness: How Barney Stinson met Robin Scherbatsky, his First Lady of Cool - Barney and Robin hear Ted's telling his kids a 'little' story, and decide to tell their kids one of their own. How did things 'really' happen? AU.
1. Prologue

**A True Story of Legendary Awesomeness:**

**How Barney Stinson met Robin Scherbatsky, his First Lady of Cool**

a How I Met Your Mother fanfic

**Series:** First Lady of Cool (short title)**  
Chapter: **Prologue**  
Rating:** T**  
Genres:** Romance/Humor**  
Pairings:** Barney/Robin, Marshall/Lily, Ted/Kendra**  
Spoilers:** This chapter, light spoiler for "Ten Sessions" & "Everything Must Go"  
**Summary:** Barney and Robin hear Ted's telling his kids a 'little' story, and decide to tell their kids one of their own.

* * *

The back door slams shut and in they stride, our two legendary kids. Even after all these years I sometimes find it strange that I've managed to reproduce, sure as I was back then that my cool-gene would protect me from having a family and all that other touchy-feely crap that's really more Ted's domain. Now I'm glad to know it offered 99% protection only, much like condoms; there's poetry there, I'm sure of it. I'll have to call Ted tomorrow to confirm.

Somewhere down the line I discovered I had a capacity for love, and these days... these days I'm thankful the universe saw fit to deal me this hand; all things considered – given the crap I've pulled over the years; Abby coming to mind as a specifically brutal example, but am I ever happy I didn't marry her – it really could've gone a lot worse.

So yes, meeting Robin Scherbatsky – my First Lady of Cool – was without doubt a turning point in my life; granted it wasn't all roses, sunshine, puppies and rainbows – and still isn't – it did plant a seed in my mind that maybe things could be different for me; here and now in the present, they are, in a good way. I kiss the top of Robin's head, she's snuggled up against me in that adorable way that would've given me a shock back then, too saccharine to contemplate, totally not cool.

"Ewww, dad, parental PDA!" That's Layla, we named her after a song she's never heard of by a musician she's never heard of either; the eldest of the two, she's the apple of my eye.

"Is cool, true story," I answer her with a grin as Robin bumps my fist, who exclaims, "PDA-Five!" in agreement.

"Honestly," Swarley adds, "sometimes I think you switched us at birth with Uncle Ted and Aunt Kendra's kids."

That would be our son – totally a momma's boy, but with a mother as cool as Robin, I can hardly fault him for that – and don't worry, we didn't really name him Swarley; it's Charles, though we tend to call him Charley or Chuck.

"Are you going to let your son talk to us like that?" I ask Robin, the smirk on my face showing my not-so-secret amusement at his remark.

Robin giggles and she's not even telling a lie yet, awesome. "Why not? That was so crass he just disproved his own theory, totally our progeny, they have that burgeoning cool to prove it."

Chuck grinned. "Stinson-five!"

Group-fives are the stuff of legends. I kinda feel sorry for Ted's kids, he still doesn't get the appeal of digit-slappage; if there's one consolation in that respect, it's that Layla's dating Drew, his son – I can still remember when he told me about the name, _'I was drawing another building, and when I looked at what I drew... hold on, Drew! And so I rang Kendra and we put it on the shortlist.'_ Yeah, whatever, Ted; as if it doesn't scar the boy for life when the name's a play on your job description, by that reckoning Layla would've been called Please! - hopefully with her infiltrating the Mosby family she can awesome them up a bit... you know, in a few years, she's only 19 after all.

It's strange how becoming a father changes your perspective on a lot of things. I'm pleased as punch that Layla and Drew have this Marshmellow-Lillypad vibe going for themselves; as approving as I am of meaningless conquests, now it's my own daughter... not so cool. Speaking of the Eriksens, it appears their youngest girl, Erica – I know, Erica Eriksen? Somehow Drew doesn't sound so bad all of a sudden – has a thing for Chuck, not that he appears to care.

He seems to like her well enough, but doesn't want to be smothered – I totally get that, and yes, double standard. I'm sure Robin agrees, we tend to do.

Chuck comes back from the kitchen with a glass of juice, "You won't believe what I had to suffer through at the Mosby place."

"Watching your sister get pawed by Drew?" I offer, grinning. When the PDA-shoe is on the other foot, or something like it.

Layla turns a little crimson and Chuck winces, "Oh, I wish, that would've been preferable; hell, watching her make out with Uncle Ted would've been preferable."

Okay, now I'm intrigued. "Whenever I suffer, I stop suffering and start being awesome instead."

Robin added her own two cents – wait, did they have cents in Canada – as she was wont to do. "What are these horrors of which you speak, Chuck? It's a slow night with nothing awesome enough to grace our 15 meter wall screen. Let it all out."

15 meter, honestly? After all these years? She did have a point, even the USA was starting to adopt metric these days. Not that I'd tell her that, I'd have to wade through meters of smug just to reach and kiss the Canadian right off her beautiful face.

A sigh of legendary proportions – we really did raise these kids well, cool-gene intact and all – escaped Layla. "Uncle Ted was telling Drew and Lyndsey how he met Aunt Kendra, only he didn't just get right to it, he started with the day you and he met mom. True story."

I raise an eyebrow, a massive grin in place as I turn towards the love of my life, a grin which she returns; we turn to face our kids. "You know, there's a story I can tell: How Barney Stinson met Robin Scherbatsy, his First Lady of Cool. It's gonna be legen – wait for it..."

"Daaaddddd...." Layla complains, "this isn't going to be like that time you told us about The Ikea Rule, is it?"

"dary... And no," I finished, "it's definitely a lot longer than that."

* * *

**Author's note: **The actual chapters will be longer, the first of which ought to appear in a few days.

Feel free to toss any comments my way, even telling me if you didn't like it. Reviews do help figure out what works and what doesn't.


	2. Grand Theft Horn

**A True Story of Legendary Awesomeness:**

**How Barney Stinson met Robin Scherbatsky, his First Lady of Cool**

a How I Met Your Mother fanfic

**Series:** First Lady of Cool (short title)**  
Chapter: **Grand Theft Horn**  
Rating:** T**  
Genres:** Romance/Humor**  
Pairings:** Barney/Robin, Marshall/Lily, Ted/Kendra**  
Spoilers:** "Pilot", "Purple Giraffe", "Zip, Zip, Zip" & minor spoilers throughout the series, season 1 mostly.

To "The REAL Kendra": The reason I chose the name for Ted's future wife is simply this: If Victoria or Stella had been 'The One', I'd expected the kids to've jumped in and say "Victoria as in our mom Victoria? You mean the story's done?!" And Kendra pretty much being the first name I came up with that went well with Ted.

* * *

"Longer?!" Chuck asks, then thuds his head on the coffee table. "Can't we do some other boring family bonding thing, say play Battleships?"

"Ehhh, Chuck?" his sister tells him, "This may come as a shock to you, Battleships is more of an adult activity, and not all that family oriented either; it's like when Aunt Lily whispers 'Rhinoceros' to Uncle Marshall."

"I'll never be able to look at board games the same way," Chuck says in dismay, "don't tell me Lasertag's a euphemism as well?"

"Stinson's Third Commandment:" I say, suddenly very serious, "Thou shalt never take the name of Lasertag in vain; your mother and I ruled at that game, we fought off goths, emos, the gymnastically impaired, held back the hordes of pimply-faced wannabes, it was in short..."

"Legendary," Robin adds, with a wistful smile, "we were the world's best wingmen, suited up to wazoo."

Chuck frowns. "You played Lasertag in a suit? In. A. Suit?"

"Charles James Stinson, you shall not mock _the Suit_, it's not done. _Of course_ you can play Lasertag in a suit, it's inevitable that your mother and I tried it, if nothing else then to show off the awesome to our opponents. You may redeem yourself by reciting the First Law of Suitity."

Okay, so I've given my son a choice now, be grounded for life for mocking the suit, or comply. Granted, not much of a choice, except for a transgression this serious, he was let off easily.

Layla tried hard to contain her giggling – she's so much like her mom it keeps us awake at night, hoping fervently she won't develop a taste for sampling the local flavor; so far we're lucky – as Chuck hangs his head with what he hopes conveys the appropriate amount of shame. "First Law of Suitity, Context: Always dress for the occasion, they don't say clothes maketh the man for nothing; addendum: also applies to women of Scherbatsky lineage."

"Chin up son, you aced it. Speaking of suiting up and the all important suit context, it was the night that Uncle Ted and I met your mom this law prevented me from breaking out my ace game for her before Ted could do his thing."

"Wait, what?" Interjects Robin, right as I was about to launch off into a description of that night. "Bro Code ring a bell? Bros before hos, wasn't that the reason?"

"M'kay, Sparkles, daddy's doing the talking here, okay?"

"Sure thing, Swarles, have at it."

"I cannot believe you just called me that, because I'm feeling generous I'll forgive you; As I was saying..."

"You just want to stir my territorial waters tonight."

"That too, now as I was saying..."

-=-=-=-

_Ted – my then best friend and newly minted wingman – and I were standing at the bar, about to indulge in a game of "Hi, have you met Ted?", when in walked your mother. For me it was lust at first sight, your uncle instantly had his trademark game-face on, the one that says: "I'm Ted, want to have 3 or 4 kids together, and what shall we name them?"_

_Now between him looking at your mother like that and my brotherly obligation to help him _hit that,_ as well as my realization I was woefully under-dressed all of a sudden, I introduced them. Putting my moves on a woman of your mom's caliber was neigh impossible in my current state of dress. There you have it, I was – and I'm loath to admit it – wearing the wrong suit; suit context can be a blessing and a curse, it so happens Armani – patron saint of tailors – had the day off._

-=-=-=-

"That's not the way Uncle Ted told the story," Layla interrupts, "the way he tells it, he saw mom across the room, hair streaming like in one of those shampoo commercials, God rays streaming across her face, birds chirping, the whole nine yards."

I shake my head, where's the logic in that? "As if they had room for large fan like that at McLaren's, the place was _packed_. Besides which, Ted has this tendency to embellish stories one day, downplay things the other. Obviously he felt that seeing your mother across the room was more _romantic._ He's always been a fool like that, it's why he and your mother could never work, long term; we understand it's the little things that count, not overblown gestures like stealing a blue French horn."

"Only you can make _romantic_ sound like a curse word." Robin says, giving my cheek a ghost of a kiss. "Your dad's right though, kids, romance is overrated; Brohood is what really counts. It went like this:"

-=-=-=-

_I'd only just finished a report for Metro News 1 – something silly about a litter of kittens fed by the neighbors' bitch – I changed quickly as I was about to meet up with some colleagues, took a cab, and that's where I met them. I was only a good few meters into the place when your father accosted me and asked if I'd met Ted._

-=-=-=-

"See?" I gesticulate wildly, "That's what I'm talking about, he's the worst storyteller. If you're ever over at the Mosby's and you hear him talk about sandwiches he's had in college, don't believe him. He always fails to mention those sandwiches were controlled substances, and I don't mean the weapon of mass destruction a week old loaf turns into."

Chuck blinks. "We're talking about the same Uncle Ted, right? The one who won Time Magazine's _Upstanding Citizen Award_ five years ago, our own Ted _'morality police'_ Mosby?"

"I feel like I don't even know him. Uncle Ted, rocking the Kasbah? Grand Theft Horn? Whodathunkit..." Layla asks in equal disbelief.

She's never heard of Eric Clapton, yet knows The Clash, go figure. "Ted, Lily and Marshall, they were all regular hash fiends from what I hear. Now, will you all stop interrupting me?"

Chuck thinks this over. "That depends, old man, you gonna keep telling this story?"

"The old man bit is another story," Robin remembers it well, "for another time. The way I see it you have two choices. You can listen to your dad and I reminisce, or we can find you a summer job at Uncle Ted's; you could sculpt him miniature Styrofoam trees."

"Brown ones," I say with a knowing smile. Certain that Robin and I are victorious, I continue. "It's important we tell you all this. We don't want you to make the same mistakes we made; as unbelievable as it sounds, your mom and I both made a few in our time."

"What you're saying, dad, is that you're afraid I'll discover my inner skank and get my freak on. Don't worry, I inherited the game-gene – the family pride's accounted for – for the time being Drew's the sole target of my wiles."

See, smart kid, my daughter. "Come on down, Layla! Tell her what she's won, Robin."

"Layla, we have an incredible prize for you this evening; You ... get to keep using the Stinson name, cool included, because that amount of awesome cannot be from concentrate."

"_That_ was overdoing it, Scherbatsky." At least it had been effective shutting the kids up. "Disowning requires much more serious charges, chapter 5, section 11, subsection 2 of the Bro Code, look it up."

"I still have my gun, you know."

"On second thought, I withdraw my comment."

"I missed my calling, you've just been lawyered."

"Spousal abuse passes as lawyer skills these days? I'm seeing Marshall in a totally different light now."

"Oh shut up and finish the story already."

With the kids watching this like a tennis match, trying their best to keep their faces straight, I believe it is perhaps best if I continue.

-=-=-=-

_As I was saying, I was about to help my brother Ted put the moves on your mother, for the aforementioned reasons. Before she had a chance to see if anyone familiar had already gotten a booth somewhere, she found herself in ours. All I can say is that "Have you met" works, because Ted's game at the time was, in a word, appalling. So _somehow_ he found himself with a date the next night._

_Ted had just excused himself for a call of nature, mom turned to me. "So is Ted your best friend, am I repulsive to you, are you gay... or is there another reason you're not hitting on me yourself?"_

_I was impressed, your mom had a mouth on her equal to my own, alas... wrong suit, and The Bro Code. Telling someone you're impressed right when you meet them isn't all that smart a strategy either, you might as well say you love them when you've yet to kiss. "Best friend. He's a good guy, I think you should give him a chance."_

_"I'm partial to bad guys. Whatever, I'll see how it goes. You available if it doesn't pan out?"_

Hells to the yeah, but that's not what I said, instead, _"As long as it doesn't violate the Bro Code."_

_"The Bro Code?"_

_"Long story, Scherbatsky, long story... stick around and one day I might tell it to you."_

* * *

**  
Author's note:** This concludes the first chapter, which is sadly shorter than I expected it to turn out. I'll try and remedy that next chapter, my muse willing. Comments and criticisms are still welcome.

Edit: Fixed a silly Clapman vs. Clapton mistake. Thanks for Roland44 over at LJ for spotting it.


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